The bigger the bag, the more we hoist around. Give your back (and yourself) a break and bring only the bare essentials. A wallet, phone and the key to your home would fit nicely into this adorable Zara cross body. And what about this darling gingham number from J.Crew? Go on, life’s heavy enough. Make it small, make it leopard.
Every year, on mother’s day, my friend Patricia receives a letter from each of her two daughters. She has a stack of about twenty of them, dating back to when her girls hit double digits. Some years it’s a paragraph, other years it’s ten. “I like to know where they’re at, what they’re thinking about.” Collectively, the letters form a beautiful archive into their lives so far. I mentioned this idea to my own children as we dragged our feet through Chinatown after swimming one day. “I don’t want any gifts, but I do want a letter.” Within two days, there were drafts all over the house. My son wrote, and re-wrote his three times. When Mother’s day rolled around, I received a sentence from Antimo, two sentences from Iole and a squiggle from Luma. It’s a start. Mother’s Day, like Valentine’s Day, often comes with pressure and expectation. It’s the forced show of love and gratitude that makes everyone cringe. Too much of it feels saccharine, and too little scratches at our insecurities. A letter seems like a fair request. And peonies are always a good idea.
A flat, wide brimmed hat may be the topper for summer ’18. I keep seeing them about the place. It’s the very opposite of the one I wore last summer, a whimsical straw hat, with a crown tall enough to double as a bucket. I like this flat roof, but not enough to buy the Jacquemus version. Instead, I’ll pop into Zara and give this one a whirl. Yes, if the hat fits, I think you’ll do nicely.
There aren’t too many pieces from Aussie brand, Posse that I don’t want for summer. The siona pant in lemon yellow; the ducky shorts in an orange stripe; the Margot dress in dusty rose. It’s all so simple, light and feminine. I may be on the other side of wearing a bandeau, but if I could, this mustard yellow number would be the one. The Posse line is designed in Australia, and made by hand by Balinese craftswomen. Join the posse.
I spent a lovely morning at the Rose Avenue Public School in St. James Town today. It’s a unique school, with vibrantly muraled walls and a richly multicultural student population. Like Mabin, where my kids go to school, Rose Avenue sees the integration of the arts as a vital pathway to building a strong community of changemakers. The two schools are very different, not least because of where they are in the city, but in philosophy they are quite similar. At both schools, I hear children as young as six or seven, talking about empathy –– “when someone hurts, and you feel it, too” –– and making change –– “when you see things that aren’t right in the world and you make a difference,” –– and that is truly exciting. Next month, the two communities will come together at Rose Avenue for a creativity fair, with painting, puppetry, storytelling, drumming and dancing, galore. It will be a fun event, one that reflects the spirit of both schools, and the spirit of the city we live in.
When my friend Kate got married she eschewed traditional cake in favour of five tiers of cheese. That’s my kind of cake. I’d take Brie over a Blondie any day. This spread right here –– five, six varieties of soft cheese –– looks delicious to me. Bring on the bread, crackers and wine, and that’s dinner and dessert in one.
You’ve got to have a certain confidence to wear your bra over your sweater. Grey velvet, helps. So does a firm bust. I like this look. I’ll never wear it –– I’ve worn the same plain Jane bras for a decade –– but I do like it. I’ll take the neck bangle, too. That I’d wear with confidence.
I recently discovered the work of Piet Oudolf –– the Dutch landscape gardener known for “gardens that look wild but are not wild.” The High Line in New York is his most acclaimed design. I watched the trailer for Five Seasons –– a documentary about the life and work of Oudolf –– and now all I want is to see the film, and walk through one of his many romantic gardens. Even his drawings are so beautiful. “Beauty is in so many things you wouldn’t think of…. I think it is the journey in your life to find out what real beauty is, of course, but also to discover beauty in things that are on the first sight not beautiful.”
I can’t remember the last time I didn’t wear jeans –– it’s been months. I’m lucky that my lifestyle allows me to. These days, even the dressiest shindig is littered with denim. Fabulous blouse, killer shoes, and you’re good for a gala. My grandmother (no denim after sundown) would be appalled at the thought. But I like the high low. Of course, nothing’s better than a cotton t-shirt and two barefeet. That’s how jeans were born to be worn.
I got poured on today. It was warm outside, so I didn’t mind at all. But a decent brolly would be good to own. It would save me coming home and putting myself in the dryer. You’d think as a born and bred Londoner, I’d own a million of them. But I don’t. This one is right up my alley. Doesn’t she look like she’s making rain fun?
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